Holding on to Heaven (30 page)

* * * *

By the time Lauren returned to camp, her anger had dissipated and grief reigned again. She couldn't bring herself to think of Brand lying in a cold grave, much less her beloved uncle, Brand's father and Minnie.

Wanapaya said the return to Full Circle in her fragile condition would take five days. She'd take the time to think about the loved ones no longer with them, prepare for a sad, yet poignant homecoming.

She sat with her back against a birch trunk now while Creed readied the horses and Sage rifled through a pouch searching for an unnamed item.

Wanapaya came from behind his wife and wrapped his arms about her waist. "What are you looking for in there?"

"Witch hazel," she said. "I know Grandmother carried it."

He peered into the knapsack. "What does it look like?"

"Small hairy twigs with yellow flowers." Holding something between her thumb and index finger, she said, "I found it."

Lauren watched their antics and admired the easy banter between them. Contrary to knowing Sage for only a few short hours, she felt bonded with her twin—perhaps a derivative of some strange phenomenon she hadn't thought about before. "What are you going to do with that?"

"Make an antiseptic for your skin."

Lauren blew out her lips. "That bad, huh?"

"Maybe someone scraped it with a tanning bone." Sage winked, crushed the stems and tossed them into a skillet, flowers included. "The blisters respond well to this old remedy."

"I can't imagine blisters responding well to hot water."

"I must steep the mixture for five minutes first. After cooling, it goes on your skin."

"Where did you learn about such treatments?"

"From my grand... from Evrasina, the woman who raised me."

When her eyes darkened, Lauren felt her sorrow. "She must have loved you so."

"And I, her," Sage said.

"You would have adored our mother too." Lauren pictured her now, floating from room to room with the subtle scent of verbena wafting in the air. "I'm sorry you never had the chance to know her."

"You must bring her to life for me then." Sage's voice cracked. "Let's begin now while we wait for the water to boil."

"A winsome smile graced her, and her voice was soft and soothing, like summer rain. The scent of lemon verbena whispered around her and she loved flowers." Her voice thoughtful, she added, "Aunt Estelle says I look like her, but from what I remember, you look more like her, Sage." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I feel as if she's come back to me now."

Sage dropped to her knees in front of her with the remedy in her palm. "No tears now or you will have me crying too. Once I put this on your face, we don't want it to wash away."

"How I envy your strength." Lauren looked into the image of her own face.

"The same lives in you. Have you not overcome much in your childhood?"

An image of her mother laid out in the parlor rose. "Yes, but our father helped me cope. You'll know what I mean when you meet him."

Sage worried her lower lip. "Poor man, how will he survive the news awaiting him?"

"After the initial shock, he will accept you with open arms as I have."

"I pray you're right." She arched her neck back. "How does it feel?"

"Heavenly," Lauren said. "The sting is almost gone."

Through peripheral vision, Lauren noticed Creed studying them. He hadn't spoken to her after their harsh words and his eyes were darker than Nelly's hair right now.

Within the hour, they broke camp and took to the trail again. By late afternoon, Lauren struggled to stay in the saddle, almost toppling from her mount on several occasions. Pride prevented her from complaining. Nor did she protest when Sage pointed to a cave carved out of a rocky cliff and insisted they make camp for the night.

The tracker entered the dry cavern first, returning moments later with cheerful news. "We will not have company tonight, man or beast."

Sage gathered an armful of sturdy branches and limbs and built a fire while Creed tended to the mounts. Lauren sank to the ground with her back against the cool walls and although aware of the conversation around her, lapsed into a dreamlike state.

Wanapaya's voice. "I will return with a turkey soon."

"I'd settle for a sparrow right now to appease my hunger." Memories of their mother flooded her whenever Sage spoke. How could their voices sound so much alike?

Her husband alluded to appeasing his hunger, and although Lauren didn't hear the full extent of his words, her imagination took over. Sage slapped him on the shoulder and shooed him out the entrance.

The turkey showed up for their evening meal. Cooked over a low fire, the outside portion of the bird was crusty, the inside moist and tender. Creed seemed less sullen than before, but directed his conversation to Sage and her husband, avoiding eye contact with her.

This
thing
between them had to end, and God help her, she’d find the strength to end it. Consumed with guilt before her ordeal, additional guilt awaited her in the days ahead. Brand had loved her, and although she didn't share his feelings, she’d grown to care for him. At times, she wondered if she might have fallen in love with Brand if Creed had been out of the picture. The answer to that would remain forever buried with her husband.

She tried to imagine a world without Creed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, had from the moment she set eyes on him. The man was a curse on her soul, a sickness she couldn't shake.

Even now, sitting across the fire from her, his potent magnetism drew her in like the hapless hummingbird seeking the sweet nectar of life. Damn, what would become of her now with Brand gone and the father of her child a heartbeat away? Somehow, out of respect to Brand, his mother and her aunt, she had to stay clear of Creed Gatlin.

Recapturing a small portion of her strength after the meal, she rose from the ground and looked at Sage. "I saw a stream not far from here. Before it gets dark, I think I'll freshen up."

"It's not a good idea," Creed said, his tone firm.

"You seem to forget I'm not a child." She hadn't meant for her voice to be so icy. "I just spent six days with the vilest of men and managed to survive."

Silence came to the cave, broken seconds later by Sage's calm voice. "Take the pistol with you, and if you need us, fire two shots into the air."

With a quick nod, Lauren took the gun the tracker handed her, grabbed the clean buckskin pants and matching shirt Sage gave her that morning and walked from the cave.

Chapter Nineteen

She followed the sound of water skimming over stones. After removing her grimy, torn riding pants and cotton shirt she'd worn for weeks, she stepped into the cool depths. Damn, she had forgotten the soap. She scrubbed her skin with a handful of fine sand, mindful of the blisters on her arms.

Refreshed and clean, she left the stream and with a prolonged sigh and dropped to the tall grass beside the base of an oak. She closed her eyes and listened to the occasional sweet refrain from a red bird she spied upon entering the clearing. Balking at donning clothing again, she sighed. The cool, clean air acted like a balm against her chafed skin.

Her eyes flew open when she felt someone's presence. "Creed," she whispered, putting a hand to her throat. "You frightened me."

"You should be afraid, Lauren."

He always moved fast, but never more than now. He dropped to his knees in front of her and yanked her into his arms. His hungry mouth came down on hers and sent shivers of desire rushing through her blood. She opened her mouth when he ran his tongue over her bottom lip. His kiss did not become softer as it deepened, but seemed borne of a primal need that matched hers.

He'd managed to position her in the crook of his arm. Bending her over it, he held her there with his other hand. "If you tell me to stop right now, I will, but if you don't, in two seconds, it will be too late."

She stared into his eyes and gasped at the heat residing in the dark depths. She wound her hands through his long hair. "I can't stop thinking about you," she said panting against his open mouth."

"Then I best make it count, so you don't stop thinking about me."

He meant what he said. Restraint abandoned them. He jerked her camisole down and exposed her breasts. In the space of a moment, he placed his mouth around her nipple, arousing her into pitiful throaty moans that seemed to spur him on.

His hand began a sensual exploration of her body, sliding down her side and across her belly, settling near the soft flesh of her thighs. She felt his fingers press against the lips of her sex. Writhing in his arm, she gasped when he slid two inside her. The degree to which she responded to his touch stunned her.

"You don't hate me, no more than I hate you." While his whispered words drifted around her, she thought about touching him in the way she'd longed to for far too long.

Her hands moved to his trousers and a groan of frustration left her lips as she fumbled with buttons. God, she wanted to touch him, taste him, do all the things she'd dreamed about forever.

His hand joined hers to release the constricting fastenings. She closed her eyes while she stroked the hard, hot member, savoring the velvety texture of his skin. With only a dim awareness of her movements, but possessed of a hunger that belied all others, she slid down his body, knelt before him and resumed her exploration. Spurred on by his groans, she ran her tongue down one side of his throbbing shaft and then down the other, surprised by the salty taste and musky scent.

His hips rocked into her, his voice hoarse and raw. "Suck me, Lauren."

She paused and wondered how to approach the task. He'd brought her so much pleasure she didn't want to disappoint him. Covering the tip with her mouth, she swirled her tongue over the swollen head. He rewarded her with a stream of breathless moans. Emboldened by her newfound power, she took the entire length in her mouth and sucked. His hands tangled in her hair and he manipulated the engorged member in and out of her mouth with gentle thrusts of his hips.

She realized the tempo he set didn't differ from the way in which he'd taken her—methodical, deliberate and pleasurable.

He released his hands from her head and pulled away. "If I don't stop you now, it's over, and I've waited a lifetime to bury my cock inside you again."

He guided her to the ground and disposed of her undergarments. Close, he was so close to taking her again and yet the seconds ticked by in slow motion.

He nudged her legs apart with his knees, gripped her hips and drove into her so hard and fast she cried out. It wasn't a cry of pain, but one of pure exultation. She looked at his long, shiny hair and the cloudy gray eyes as he moved above her.

Perfect. Euphoric. Heavenly.

He thrust into her and kissed her into oblivion. She yielded to the searing need building for months. She met him on a new level, naked flesh on naked flesh, primordial and raw. Like a great-winged falcon, she soared and dipped, only to plummet to earth for a brief spell before soaring again.

He stopped and she wondered who had removed the stars from the sky. With one hand, she pulled on his hair, the other she used to run across his hard-muscled buttocks. "Please, Creed, don't stop, don't stop."

"You love me like I love you, don't you?"

She nodded.

He held her gaze. "Say it."

She writhed beneath him, her head restless, her breaths coming in hard pants.

"I swear I'll stop if you don't say it."

"Yes, I do-I do love you, only you."

Every muscle in his powerful body relaxed and he released a long breath. She studied him and held her breath.

"Are you saying that because you want me to fuck you or because you mean it?"

She shook her head and whimpered. "I mean it. I've loved you from the first moment I saw you."

The anger retreated and calm settled over him. He loved her with a new tenderness, driving into her deeper with such sweet patience she thought her heart would break. Together, they rode the crest of passion through the abyss, emerging on the other side, her body trembling, his shuddering.

He collapsed on top of her, drawing long, hard breaths. Then he rolled off and pulled her into his arms. "What happens now, Lauren McCain?"

"Gatlin," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and she knew the reason for it.

She pushed herself up until she lay across his chest looking into his eyes. "I have two confessions to make."

"Sounds serious."

"One is, one isn't. Which do you prefer first?"

"The
not
serious so I can brace myself."

"I cheated the day I beat you in the horse race."

His eyes widened. "Oh, this is sweet, so sweet. Can I hear that again?"

"No, you may not, and if you tell anyone, I'll deny I confessed to such malevolence."

He laughed. "It's enough to know you came clean with me." His expression grew serious. "You've grown up, come a long way from that saucy little bitch that got tossed ass-over-head into the mud."

"In a good way?"

He kissed her. "In a very good way."

"I'm glad," she said and grew still. "Now for my second confession."

"That bad, huh?"

"Couldn't be much worse."

"I always told you I prefer my bad news straight up, so give it to me."

"You sure?"

"Damn it, Lauren, just spit it out, will you. I'm dying here."

"All right," she said and held his eyes. "You’re Finn's father."

Emotion flitted through his eyes—shock, disbelief, and finally elation. "You wouldn't say this because you're mad at me for going off to war, would you?"

She shook her head.

"You have no doubt whatsoever?"

She shook it again.

His eyes misted over. "Finn is my son." The words came out on a whisper of a breath, so low she strained to hear them.

"You're not upset?"

"Upset?" He drew back. "Are you out of your mind, woman? I've never felt so right about anything in my life. I have a son."